


The Stone Angel

by whatwecan



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, Rose is a weeping angel, weeping angel Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwecan/pseuds/whatwecan
Summary: Rose is a Weeping Angel. Inspired by a post on Tumblr.





	The Stone Angel

**Author's Note:**

> The basic premise here is that Rose is a weeping angel. That is important to know I case you missed it.

The Tardis kept her room buried deep, the center of a labyrinth of corridors only he could navigate. They’d discovered early on that the unlimited potential of the vortex could keep her nourished well enough, and he wanted her protected. 

It was just as well, Rose had always been so bright and bubbly; the first to befriend funeral parlor maids, or cat nuns, anyone the lowly and disenfranchised. But more and more these days she preferred to keep her own company. 

Her chamber was soft, decorated in light pinks and greens, a fluffy duvet draped over her bed and a plush reading chair to one side, by a wide walnut bookshelf. She was sitting there now, still, a book on botany open in her lap. It was her newest passion. He’d had the Tardis make her a greenhouse, leading off her room, climate controlled, complete with stained glass windows and artificial sunlight. She’d said the silent blooms in their ceramic pots reminded her of herself. Flowers don’t judge. 

On the wall just like in her old room, a virtual window could be set to any vista her heart desired. It only ever showed the same image now, the view the Powell Estate courtyard from above, her mother below smiling back at her, waving. It was raining in London today, and as the Doctor turned to the wall he watched the images of raindrops as they traced across the faux windowpane. They were so life-like, even his timelord perception was fooled. Or was it just wishful thinking?

The Doctor squeezed his eyes closed, listening desperately, he could hear the slight rustle of her moving behind him, the gentle slide of paper against paper as she set her book down. He could almost picture it in his minds eye, the hesitant grace of her gestures in these quiet moments. 

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed, the raindrops shivering where they clung, working up the courage, then falling all at once. She’d moved behind him, her arms snaking beneath his, her cool slender fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt-front. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and the Doctor could feel the twisted tendrils of her hair tease the side of his neck. 

“Me too,” she said, and he wondered if she meant him, or herself. Wondered if there was much distinction anyway. Her voice was hoarse.

“Have you been crying?” He couldn’t bear it, the thought of her weeping.

“I don’t think I can anymore.” She laughed, but it was a brittle humorless thing. “Touch me, please?”

He could feel her lips now, firm where her hair had brushed light, starving desperate kisses against his neck, her teeth grazing his ear as she repeated her plea “Please, Doctor.”

Leaning into her, The Doctor could feel the soft curves of her body against his back and he let the sensation fill in the blanks as he painted the image of her form, picturing it as it was once, golden beneath the Roman sun.

If he kept his eyes closed he could hold the vision. Her smile, her body, he’d kissed her then, after she’d saved him. Could he kiss her now and do the same? 

If he kept his eyes closed he could turn and clasp her to his hearts, could run his hands over the parts of her he couldn’t see… like so. And now it was Rose who shivered. Or was it him? Or was it time itself, freezing and bolting away frayed and tattered as it was when they came together like this?

Her lips were urgent against his, and her hands at his chest were working feverishly to rid him of his shirt, and the Doctor wondered as he always did in such moments if maybe her powers worked on him after all , if maybe this actually was what it felt like to have your future stolen away. Surely it felt like surrender. 

“I’ll fix you Rose” he murmured against her lips, wishing she would speak. Without his eyesight he needed her voice to make it seem real. He’d made the promise so many times the edges had worn soft. He’d have to handle the words more carefully, if he wanted them to last. 

And he would, he would fix her. It was only a mater of getting the dosage right, balancing the cure so she wouldn’t reject it. 

“OK.” she breathed, the word cut short as he pulled her top over her head and began to palm her breasts. She hadn’t bothered with a bra.

It was better like this. Facing her with his eyes closed. He could touch her, manipulate her body the way she liked. In his mind she was grins, the corners of her lips quirking up even as she kisses him, her blue eyes (or were they brown?) shining. She shimmies out of her denims, backing away from him teasingly so he can enjoy the show, stretching out the moment for all it’s worth. 

“Do you like what you see Doctor?” He imagined her saying, her tongue caught in her teeth. 

He follows her. He always did. Lays her reverently on the bed, stroking her legs as she opens them for him, and sinks inside her. That part was the same at least, on the bed or here, where he’d turned her and hoisted her up against the wall. She was wet and warm and perfect around his cock. She was home, a fortress against the universe. 

Rose gasped as he thrust into her, just a breath of air chased from her throat, and the Doctor wished it were louder. He was thrusting deeper now, wanting to make her scream. Leaning harder against the wall he shifted a hand from where he supported her bum, to tease her where they joined. He could please her. He wanted to shatter her in pleasure. 

She was moaning something now, a deep guttural chant with every thrust of his cock, and he was so close, he had to strain to make out the words.

“See me.”

“See me, Doctor.”

“Open your eyes.”

But how could he? How could he when they were both so close?

In his minds eye Rose throws her head back when she comes, her brow furrowing in rapturous delight. She’s a vision of joy, and love and mutual pleasure, and it’s the sight of her so overcome, that tipped the Doctor over the edge after her, his vision blurred white as he came into her body. She would pepper his face with kisses once she recovered. Smiling and laughing, always smiling and laughing.

“Oh, Rose,” the Doctor sobbed where they’d collapsed in a tangle on the floor. “Oh, Rose, what happened to you.”

“It’s ok. It’s ok,” she soothed, her voice heavy though it shouldn’t be. “I’m fine.”


End file.
